The Billionaire's Fake Marriage (A Romance Collection Boxed Set)

by Amanda Horton

  Lane nodded mutely. Half her brain digested everything he said. The other half was acutely aware he was holding her hand. She liked it.

  “C’mon Lane,” he prodded, “This is good for both of us. What’s the hold-up then?”

  “I am scared that you might sell the gallery off. It will be a lot better if it’s donated to a museum. At least people could see these paintings” Lane expressed her deepest fear.

  “If you don’t want me to, I won’t. It will be business as usual. After a year we get a quickie divorce. You get your money, and I get the gallery. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

  Lane sat deep in thought. What Matthew proposed made sense to her. No one at the gallery would lose their jobs. Sarah could go to college just as they planned. But something still bothered her.

  “This marriage, what would it require?” she asked.

  “It’s a marriage of convenience. We live under the same roof but stay in separate bedrooms. You’re free to see anyone you like.” He paused then added, “Are you seeing someone special?”

  Lane shook her head.

  "Are you?" she asked.

  “No one that really matters.”

  Her uncertainty still showed. He looked earnestly at her, waiting for her response.

  “Okay,” she finally decided.

  Matthew removed a small box from his jacket pocket.

  “I brought this, in case you said yes. It should seal the deal.”

  Lane looked at an expensive, diamond engagement ring in disbelief.

  “Put it on and see if it fits. I’ll talk to Dillard first thing and make arrangements for a private wedding. We have less than thirty days.”

  Two days later, they stood before a judge who officiated their wedding and made their union legal. Ever since she was a little girl, she had looked forward to her wedding. This was far from what she had imagined but she had to remind herself that this was just a business arrangement.

  ***

  Two weeks passed before Lane could shake the feeling. The ring on her finger said she was Mrs. Matthew Stromm. Talks were rife about the suddenness of the marriage, but Lane took it all in her stride. She had a role to play and she had decided to play it well.

  She and Sarah moved in with Matthew to the Stromm ancestral home. He allowed her to run the household as the new mistress of the house, while he busied himself with his mom’s estate.

  Lane continued her work at the gallery during the day. When a delivery of paintings arrived and Lane fell short of space, she decided to bring some of the older paintings home. She was in the process of unpacking the frames when she spotted a familiar canvas and shrieked in delight.

  It was an acrylic, 8x10 rendition of a woman in her wedding gown.

  From the moment she first set eyes on it, Lane had been enamored. There was something about the woman that embodied all the emotions of an expectant bride-to-be. The painting had never sold, to Katherine’s chagrin, but Lane was secretly elated. She did some research about the origin of the piece and found nothing. However, she knew in her heart that she wanted it badly. She was so enraptured that she did not notice Matthew had arrived until he spoke.

  “That’s beautiful,” he said.

  “You like it?” she asked, thrilled at the approval.

  “An Italian amateur painted his wife from memory, a year after she passed away. Both were in an accident. He survived, she didn’t. He died shortly after, leaving that as a legacy of his love.”

  Lane was stunned.

  “How? How do you know all that? I searched the Internet and found absolutely nothing. Not the painter’s name or even a short bio of his art. Nothing.”

  “When I lived in Italy I heard about him. His name is Antonio Pierro. He spent his whole life in a small town called Cefalu. I was curious about his work. He passed away a couple of months before my visit. I ended up talking to his mother, Signora Pierro. She told me everything about her son, the wife that he adored deeply and the tragic accident that took her life. Signora Pierro had to sell most of his work to cover his medical bills. This was the only one left. I bought it and sent it to Katherine to put in the gallery."

  Lane was speechless; she hadn’t known any of it.

  “I thought it was pretty tragic, what happened to him. I hoped Katherine never sold it and I’m glad to see that it’s still here,” he added.

  "I have loved this painting ever since I first laid eyes on it," Lane admitted breathlessly.

  A strange look crossed his face – one she didn’t quite understand.

  “I’m glad you do. Maybe fate meant it for you,” he replied softly.

  Lane felt her world shift. She couldn’t quite put the feeling into words. The painting was a fragile thread that connected her and Matthew. She tried to understand her happiness, tried to ignore it, but her heart told her what her mind refused to acknowledge. In that bittersweet moment, she realized she still loved the man.

  ***

  Lane couldn't find the words to describe her state of contentment. Since the night she had discovered the truth about the painting, there had been a perceptible change in their relationship. It felt like all her barriers had been taken down.

  “May I join you?” he asked after dinner one evening.

  Lane was relaxing on the sofa watching a sitcom, legs tucked beneath her, and sipping a glass of wine. Normally, he headed straight to his own bedroom. She made room for him, turning down the volume of the TV as she did so. He sat at the farthest end of the sofa and appeared to be deep in thought.

  “Would you mind, if I started coming over to the gallery?” he asked.

  “I don’t mind at all,” replied Lane, surprised and thinking he surely didn’t need to ask.

  “I won’t get in your way?” he asked, with a look of uncertainty.

  “It would be great to have you around. You have so much knowledge about art and it would be good for everyone to have access to that”

  He grinned and replied, “You no longer think of me as a pompous ass?” reminding her of the day at the lawyer’s office.

  “You’re still a pompous ass. But if you stay at the gallery, I can keep track of your whereabouts,” Lane teased, and then chuckled.

  “Haven’t I been good, Mrs. Stromm?” he said, taunting her.

  "Exemplary, Mr. Stromm," Lane answered.

  He stood up to refill her glass and then, when he returned, deliberately sat closer.

  “To my beautiful wife,” he toasted. “Had I known five years ago that you would turn out to be this ravishing creature, I would have stayed and suffered my mom taking over my life.”

  Lane gulped. It was a sore topic she had never dared to ask about. But she still wanted to know and so she asked.

  “Did you even think about me all these years?”

  “Every single day for a whole year,” he admitted. “I kept recalling your face, your eyes, your skin and your scent. I didn’t want to forget. But after a while I convinced myself you would have moved on with someone else.”

  Lane was dumbstruck.

  “But, but, back at the office you acted like you didn’t even know me at all.”

  “I did; I’m an idiot. I was afraid of the way I felt about seeing you again. Maybe you had gotten married or were seeing someone.” Matthew confessed.

  “How did you feel, seeing me again?” Lane asked in a whisper.

  “Like I was still in love with you. Like I never really stopped loving you at all.”

  Lane felt tears well in her eyes. He reached out a hand and brushed them away, then ran his fingers down her cheek, caressing her lower jaw with his thumb. It left her momentarily breathless and her heart pumped wildly as heat suffused her body.

  He leaned down, swept a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and whispered, “There’s nothing I want more than to make love to you tonight.” He stood up and said, “Good night, Lane.”

  No, come back! Her brain screamed at his retreating figure.

  His sudden departure
left her completely baffled. She recognized the achy, hollow throbbing between her legs. She wanted to feel his lips against hers, his hard body pressed close against her breast.

  Lane marched determinedly back to her own bedroom and paced the floor. A wild idea took shape, which sent her scampering to the closet. She rummaged wildly until she found what she was looking for. She entered the bathroom and took a hot shower, which left her skin tingling. She donned the lingerie.

  She flinched at the image reflected in the mirror. The silk nightgown covered just enough of her breasts inside the flimsy bra to leave something to the imagination. The soft curves of her body were silhouetted against the sheer, white fabric and the panties were just a total excuse for being there at all.

  Her palms turned sweaty as she studied her reflection. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders in wild disarray. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of optimism and dread and the blood flowing uncontrollably through her chest gave her a pinkish glow.

  “Don’t be an idiot. You’re a strong, independent woman. You can do this,” she castigated her reflection.

  With her mind made up, she made a beeline for his bedroom and opened the door softly. He was sprawled across his bed, reading by a lamp that cast its glow softly over his face. His eyes popped when he saw her standing there. Only an oaf might have failed to spot her intention.

  “May I join you?” she asked huskily, sexual expectation overflowing into her voice.

  With her heart beating like a jackhammer, Lane approached him slowly, barefooted. Her limbs took on a life of their own, as she pulled at the ribbon that held her lingerie together. His eyes bored deeply into hers, before traveling down the rest of her body. She sashayed seductively until she reached the bed, feeling the mattress move as she climbed up and stationed herself by his side.

  Matthew grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down on top of him. He held her face so close to his that she could feel their eyelashes touching. The sweet smell of wine on his warm breath was intoxicating. Then his lips closed on her lower lip and sucked gently, before he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

  Lane responded to the symphony of emotions his tongue created. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally let go of her mouth as his feverish hands worked to divest her of all her clothes.

  Lane’s breasts sprung free of their confines as she worked on removing his shirt and untying the drawstrings of his pants. Matthew’s lips traveled from behind her ear to the side of her neck and he inhaled the sweet fragrance of her skin. He reached up, grasped her breast and caressed her nipples with his thumb.

  Lane threw her neck back in ecstasy as the tingling sensation traversed all the way down to her groin. She struggled feverishly with the rest of his clothes. Her heavy panting sounded loud even to her own ears as she groped his hardened cock through his pants. They soon surrendered to her persistence and she caressed his lengthened shaft.

  Matthew turned her over gently so that she was lying beneath him and Lane watched, hypnotized, as he shimmied between her legs. He caressed the soft skin between her thighs, before ripping away her panties. With nostrils flaring and eyes narrowed, he lowered his face between her thighs and inhaled deeply.

  “You smell intoxicating,” he said, the voice rumbling from his throat.

  He proceeded to paint the lips of her vulva with his tongue. Lane writhed in ecstasy when he flicked her clit and began to give it all his attention. Every nerve in her body responded and came alive. Her body was on fire. Matthew reached up and grabbed one of her breasts and massaged it with his palm.

  Lane thought she would go insane. She was climbing towards the apex of her desire, but she knew exactly what she wanted to get her there. She wanted all of him inside her. She rocked her hips sensuously and pulled him up to her.

  “I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered huskily, spreading her legs wide open. She inched her hips toward his throbbing member and gasped at the feel of his hardness against the outer lips of her pussy.

  Matthew entered her slowly, deliberately, relishing the play of emotions that crossed her face. He arched his back, forming a bridge over her, lowered his face and took possession of her breast with his mouth. A wild tremor racked her body.

  He thrust inside her slowly, then with ever-increasing intensity, as his tongue swirled and sucked at her breast. Lane was distinctly aware of the heat pooling between her legs. She fought against the tide of a coming orgasm, but found she was no match for its insistent cry for release.

  “I’m coming,” she whimpered into his ear.

  Matthew released the captive breast and propped his elbow against the cushions. He rammed into her harder and harder, faster and faster, observing her face for telltale signs of her climax.

  Lane flailed, and then grabbed hold of him tightly. Primal moaning filled the room, as a mind-blowing release made her body shake. Lane thought she had died and gone to heaven. Her mind was in a haze, as she watched Matthew’s face scrunch. The veins in his neck were like corded ripples that throbbed with each violent thrust.

  He yelled her name as Lane felt a warm gush spread inside her. Matthew’s body jerked convulsively with each spurt of his cum, before he fell into a mindless heap on top of her body.

  ***

  “That’s rather ostentatious, don’t you think?” a teasing voice remarked.

  Lane smiled at Sarah, who was home on a break from school. She looked forward to spending time with her baby sister. She also felt a little guilty. Sarah was growing up too fast and would soon be away for college.

  Sarah approached the humongous flower arrangement of five-dozen roses in a wicker basket, prettily tied up in a bow.

  “Your favorite kind,” she simpered. “Matthew sure knows how to bowl a girl over. Did you two have a fight or something?”

  “No, we didn’t fight. You know Matthew. He can be quite flamboyant.”

  “You think?” Sarah retorted sarcastically.

  Lane didn’t reply. If she was honest, she was feeling a bit overwhelmed, although happy, about Matthew’s thoughtful ways. Everything was...heaven. Lane felt juvenile describing her feelings that way, but it was exactly how she felt. She was constantly blown away by his gifts: concert tickets, weekend getaways, jewelry, designer clothes, etc… the list was endless.

  “You’re spoiling me too much,” she remarked to him, while holding a diamond bracelet to the light.

  “That’s what husbands do for their beautiful wives.” He replied.

  Lane hoped it had nothing to do with the fact that they were both naked and just had the most incredible sex ever.

  “Thank you,” she replied as she rolled on top of him and started to caress his…

  “Earth to Lane…” Sarah remarked with a laugh.

  Lane shook her head, cleared her thoughts, and laughed with embarrassment. Matthew was constantly on her mind, even when he was away, just like today.

  “OMG! You’re such a bride,” Sarah guffawed.

  Lane blushed. Who could blame her? Her day began and ended with Matthew Stromm.

  She placed an arm around her sister's waist and asked, "What about you? Have you made up your mind about which university to go to?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Sarah replied. “Cornell University wants me in their Department of Arts and has offered me a scholarship.”

  “What? When did this happen?” Lane shrieked in excitement.

  Sarah grinned and replied, “I’ll tell you all about it over lunch. You can afford to treat me to a really good one since you no longer have to worry about college tuition.”

  Lane grabbed her sister and hugged her tight. She was incredibly happy. All her sacrifices had been worth it.

  “Tell me all about it," she urged, as they walked hand in hand towards the door.

  ***

  Back at the office a few days later, Lane was surprised to receive a letter that was postmarked from India. She tore the envelope open and read the letter. Her eyes grew wi
de in wonder.

  The sender of the letter was a well-known Indian painter, Vijay Ghosh.

  Before her death, Katherine had gotten interested in the work of Ghosh and suggested to Lane that she inquire about traveling to India and studying his art. Lane had written the letter and forgotten all about it.

  Ghosh had apologized for the late response, and asked Lane to visit him. Lane was stunned. Visiting India to see Ghosh was on her bucket list, something she had forgotten since she got married.

  She placed the letter down dejectedly. Going to India would mean leaving Matthew behind. She didn’t want to do that. Not now, when everything seemed absolutely perfect. A sudden hope surged inside her.

  “If I tell Matthew about Vijay Ghosh, he might decide to come along. It would be great if we both explored India and studied its culture and arts. I’ll talk to him tonight when I get home,” she mused.

  The idea buoyed her and she eagerly looked forward to closing the gallery early. Matthew had been gone for two days and said he would be back that night.

  She hoped she would have the time to prepare a special dinner for him. Then who knows, perhaps she would get lucky. A heat arose between her legs just thinking about him.

  She entered their home and decided to go upstairs and change. She immediately noticed the small suitcase just outside their bedroom door.

  “He’s home,” her heart squealed in delight.

  She tiptoed towards it, hoping to surprise him and noticed that the bedroom door was ajar. She pushed it silently to find Matthew seated on the bed with his back facing the door. Then she realized he was talking to someone on speakerphone.

  “…I don’t know, Matthew. It feels like a breach of your promise to Lane. You did say you wouldn’t sell the gallery. How will she feel when she finds out?”